Time Stands Still
by The Lovelorn Lovelace
Summary: "Time stands still best in moments that look suspiciously like ordinary life." Little moments in the lives of our favorite TMI characters. Clace, Sizzy, Malec.
1. 5 out of 10

_**"Time stands still best in moments that look suspiciously like ordinary life." **_**—Brian Andreas**

**5/10**

Clary limped into the Institute, splattered with mud, blood, and ichor, just as the elevator doors slid open to reveal Isabelle, toweling her wet hair dry. "Jace is up in his room," she said, flipping her head upside down to dry the underside of her hair. "And, boy, is he pissed."

"How mad is he?" said Clary weakly.

"About a five."

"Out of ten?" Clary asked hopefully.

Isabelle let out a snort of laughter. "Out of _five_," she corrected, grinning at Clary as she flipped her hair right side up again. "Just go and see him. I'm sure he'll be happier once he knows you're alive."

Clary grimaced and entered the elevator. Isabelle gave her a little wave as the grille slid shut and the elevator began to ascend with a jolt. Clary leaned back against the wall, already formulating a strategy for calming Jace down.

One: Kiss him.

Two: Kiss him harder.

Three: Sex?

Four: Threaten him with ducks. No, that wouldn't work. Would that work? Clary filed it away for future experimentation.

The elevator crashed to a stop, the grille opened, and Clary found herself face-to-face with Jace. He was wearing a stony expression.

"Hello," she said. "Um—let's kiss." _Smooth. Real smooth, Clary._

He scowled. "What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded. "Going off to fight a horde of demon without any backup?"

"I told Izzy I was going," said Clary.

Jace's scowl deepened. "You shouldn't have gone by yourself."

"Well," Clary said, "I didn't realize there would be as many as there were."

"And how many were there?"

Clary thought about it for a moment. "Fifteen. Wait, maybe twenty." _Not helping your case, Fairchild._ "But they were all lesser demons," she added hastily. "I barely even got a scratch."

Jace looked her up and down in her blood-soaked gear. "I can see that."

"Okay, maybe a couple of scratches." Jace sighed, but Clary barreled on. "Look, I made a mistake. Won't happen again, okay?"

Jace's expression softened slightly. "Just call me next time."

Clary nodded. "Yes. I will definitely do that."

Jace reached out and pulled her toward him. She tilted her chin up, brushing her lips against his, and he responded by pressing himself against her.

"My master plan is working," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," Clary said, kissing him again. They leaned into each other, entwining themselves. After a long moment, they broke apart. "Hmm," Clary said, scrutinizing Jace. "I'd give that kiss a five."

"Out of five?" Jace said smugly.

"Out of _ten_."

"I'm affronted," said Jace. "I'll have you know that most girls rate my kisses off the scale."

"Oh?" said Clary, raising her eyebrows. "And which girls would those be?"

"None that matter," Jace said quickly. "So, how can I improve my score?"

"Practice would help," Clary told him.

"Well, that's something I'm definitely on board with," said Jace, bending down to kiss her again.


	2. Birthday Party

**Birthday Party**

Simon peeled his eyes open. The room was far too bright—clearly, the sun had exploded overnight and they were all mere moments from death. Luckily, Simon already felt like death; his brain was hammering against the inside of his skull and his stomach seemed to contain an army of jumping frogs. Groaning, he turned his head to the side and was greeted with a large tangle of black hair. He pushed it out of the way to reveal Isabelle's face.

Suddenly, the sound of an airhorn blasted through the room. Isabelle sat bolt upright, seized a throwing knife from her bedside table, and flung it without looking; Clary, standing in the doorway, ducked as the knife flew over her head. It drove into the doorframe and stuck there, quivering slightly. To her credit, Clary seemed unfazed.

"GOOD MORNING!" she shouted into a megaphone. Simon cringed as the sound crashed down onto his ears. "I HOPE YOU SLEPT WELL!"

"When did you get a megaphone?" Simon muttered.

"I'VE ACTUALLY HAD IT FOR A WHILE!" Clary said. "I THOUGHT THIS WOULD BE A GREAT TIME TO BREAK IT OUT!"

"Clary," Isabelle growled, "I will murder you. And I will make it slow. And painful."

Clary ignored this. "YOU MAY BE WONDERING WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO DESERVE THIS," she said. "I ASSUME YOU REMEMBER NOTHING ABOUT LAST NIGHT, CONSIDERING HOW DRUNK—"

Another knife flew through the air and knocked the megaphone out of Clary's hands.

"Well, then," she said, looking at Isabelle, who had bared her teeth and was breathing heavily, "now that you're both awake, you can get started on cleaning this place up."

"Cleaning…"

Simon looked around. The floor was littered with red plastic cups, greasy paper plates, and what looked like a small mountain of baguettes. He stared at this last thing for a long moment.

"Why do we have this many baguettes?" he said.

"Clean it up yourself, Clary," Isabelle grumbled. "I'm going back to bed."

"Oh no you're not," said Clary cheerfully. "See, Jace is very irritated at both of you for ruining my birthday party last night. In his words, 'those sorry excuses for adults took what was meant to be a classy event and turned it into a college rager.' I was pretty impressed that he knew what a college rager was, actually," she added thoughtfully.

"But the baguettes," said Simon.

"It's our apartment," said Isabelle peevishly. "Besides, Jace's thing was boring. You can't tell me you didn't enjoy last night."

"I enjoyed it a lot more before you guys started pounding back shots and Simon took his pants off," Clary said.

"He did what?" Isabelle said, looking shocked.

"Hello?" said Simon. "Is no one going to talk about the baguettes?"

"Not now, Simon," Isabelle snapped. She turned back to Clary. "Look, we're sorry, whatever. But you can't seriously expect us to clean this whole place up ourselves."

Clary shrugged. "That sounds like a _you_ problem, my friend." She picked up her megaphone. "HAVE FUN!" she shouted. "JACE AND I WILL PROBABLY BE BACK LATER WITH A BOOMBOX!"

She danced out of the room, deftly avoiding a third knife.

Isabelle, muttering something under her breath, swung her legs out of bed and stood up. "Nope," she said immediately, toppling over. Simon heard a crunch as she landed.

"Baguettes," said Simon blearily.

* * *

**A/N: Hello! Thanks so much to everyone who favorited/followed, much love! I'd be so so grateful if you'd leave a review :) Also, if you're looking for something else to read between updates, I have another account, The Lionhearted Phoenix, where I have a bunch of Harry Potter fanfiction! If you're part of the fandom, please head over there and check out some of my stories!**

**Until Sunday,**

**~4L**


	3. Sick

**Sick**

"Here," said Alec, "I made you some soup and got you another blanket."

"I don't need to be coddled," said Magnus. "I'm fi—achoo!" A cloud of glitter puffed up around his head. He groaned and burrowed into his blankets, shivering. Alec set the bowl of steaming tomato soup down and wrapped another blanket around Magnus.

"Just let me take care of you," he said gently.

"I," Magnus said, drawing himself up to his full height, "am the High Warlock of Brook—_achoo!"_

"Yes, yes, the mighty and fearsome High Warlock of Brooklyn," said Alec patiently. "Now drink your soup."

Magnus frowned, but he allowed Alec to feed him a spoonful of soup. "My left nostril closed up," he said mournfully. "I'm down to one working nostril."

"It'll open up again," Alec said, spooning more soup into his mouth.

"Why did I never appreciate having two working nostrils?" Magnus moaned. "Oh, to be able to breathe easily…."

Alec shook his head exasperatedly. "What happened to 'I don't need to be coddled, I'm fine'?"

"I lied," said Magnus, flopping back dramatically. "I think I'm dying, Alec. This is the end. Tell Chairman Meow I love him."

"Chairman Meow has literally been sitting next to you for the past ten minutes," said Alec.

Magnus looked around, seeming to notice the ball of gray fur beside him for the first time. "I'm delirious. The sickness has taken its toll on me."

"It's a cold," said Alec, grinning. "You'll be better in a few days. Until then, soup."

Magnus swallowed down another spoonful. "You should stay away from me. If I die, I don't want to take you down with me."

Alec laughed. "That's very sweet of you, but I'll be fine." He put the bowl down and pressed a gentle kiss to Magnus's forehead. "Finish your soup. I'll go get you more tissues."

He stood up and made to leave the room.

"Alec?" Magnus said, and he turned back. "I love—_achoo!" _Magnus gasped. "Alec, my nostril—it's clear! _I'm freeee!"_

"Congratulations," said Alec, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, how I've missed breathing properly," Magnus sighed, sinking back into his pillows. "Wait. No—no, no, no—" He sat up again. "Damn it! Now the other one is stuffy." He groaned. "Why do terrible things happen to good people?"

Alec shook his head. "Finish your soup," he said again. "You'll feel better."

"I will never be the same," Magnus cried.

Hiding a smile, Alec ducked out of the room.


	4. Eyebrows

**Eyebrows**

"Hold it still."

"I'm trying!"

"Then why is it wiggling?"

"It's not exactly voluntary, Jace—"

"Okay, just—here."

They were sitting in bed, facing each other. Jace reached over and pressed his fingers to Clary's eyebrows. "Now you move _this_ one—" He moved her right eyebrow up while holding down her left one. "There. Like that."

"Okay, let me try." Clary furrowed her brows, then slowly began to raise one. After a moment, the other followed. "Damn it! Why is this so hard?"

"Maybe you have to be born with it, like rolling your tongue," Jace suggested.

Clary frowned. "I will learn how to raise one eyebrow if it's the last thing I do."

Jace rolled his eyes. "I swear it's not as hard as you're making it. Here, watch." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Ew, ew, ew, stop, that's so creepy!" Clary said, laughing.

"What, this?" He wiggled an eyebrow suggestively. Clary reached over and smacked a hand across his forehead, covering his eyebrows.

"How dare you use your special talent for evil?" she said.

"I do have an abundance of special talents," said Jace. "Some of which I use for evil. Others for pleasure—"

Clary's other hand came up and covered his mouth. Jace licked her palm.

"Stop it!" Clary shrieked, releasing him and rolling away from him. Jace caught her around the waist and pulled her back to him, tickling her. "Jace, stop it, I'm serious—" she said, giggling madly.

"Yes, you sound very serious," Jace said.

Clary flailed, her arm coming up and brushing against his chin. He squeaked.

"Aha!" she shouted, freeing herself. She reached up and tickled the underside of his chin. He squirmed away from her.

"Stop it! You know that's my only ticklish spot!"

"I have found your weakness, Jace Herondale, and I will exploit it to no—mmph!"

Jace cut her off swiftly by kissing her. She gave a little moan, melting against him. "This is highly unfair," she murmured against his lips.

"Are you complaining?" Jace began to brush kisses down her jaw and neck. "Because I have many hidden talents I'd be willing to show you."

"Oh, do you?" Clary said, raising her eyebrows. She gasped. "Oh! Am I doing it?" She raised her eyebrows again.

"No," Jace said.

Clary sighed and flopped back in the bed. "I hate you."


	5. Anniversary

**Anniversary**

This was not how Simon had imagined this night going.

To be fair, he had imagined being very close to Isabelle—though, he hadn't expected to be back to back. And also, he had imagined them being tied up for several hours—though, not literally.

"They could have given us chairs," he said, craning his neck and catching a glimpse of Isabelle's ear. "It's very demeaning, being tied up on the floor like this."

"_That's_ what you're thinking about?" Isabelle demanded.

"Well, that, and the fact that your butt is touching mine."

Isabelle gave an exasperated sigh. "Okay, I have a dagger in my boot. Do you think you can reach it?"

Simon stretched his arm as far as he could. "No. Maybe if you bend your leg."

"Okay, hang on." She pressed herself harder against him, sliding her leg up his. He suddenly felt very warm. "What are you doing?" she said. "Grab it!"

"Uh," he said eloquently, trying to focus his thoughts on his grandmother, his very old, very wrinkled, very saggy grandmother. "Just give me a second."

"Simon Lewis," said Isabelle in a dangerously low voice, "are you turned on right now?"

"No. Definitely not." He managed to compose himself enough to reach down into her boot. "Here!"

"That's my anklebone."

"Oh, sorry." He ran his hand around the rim of her boot, at last locating the hilt of a dagger. He pulled it out of her boot, turning it over awkwardly in his hand so that he could saw at their bindings. After a moment, the rope gave way. They wriggled apart, freeing themselves. Simon scrambled to his feet, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Teamwork," he said. "Very good done. I mean, very well job."

Isabelle gave him a withering look and grabbed the dagger back from him. "You have any weapons on you?"

"No, they took them all," Simon said. "When the demons snuck up on us. And captured us."

"Yes, I remember, thank you." Isabelle tucked the dagger into her belt and began to pull her hair up into a ponytail. Simon noticed that the ends looked rather ragged; he glanced down to find that he had accidentally sheared off some of her hair. He kicked the strands into the corner hastily. "Okay," said Isabelle, "I'm going to go in there and distract them. You grab the weapons and loop back around to me. It'll be easier to take them down once I get them all centralized."

"Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you talk strategy?" said Simon.

"This is really not the time…but you could definitely tell me more about it when this is over," Isabelle said, a smile playing on her lips.

Simon grinned. "Happy anniversary, Isabelle."

"Best anniversary ever," Isabelle said. "Getting captured, taking down a pack of demons—"

"Shadowhunters are _so_ weird," said Simon.

Isabelle laughed. "Love you too. Now let's go kick some demon ass."


End file.
